


Mating Bites

by San121



Series: Scents on the wind [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, F/M, Here is the mating and marriages, Oh boy Oh geeze, holy crap this is long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-10-31 23:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20803556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/San121/pseuds/San121
Summary: After the war, the fighting, the horrors and tragedies, the lords finally get to call Byleth theirs.





	1. Almyran Ceremony

Claude adjusts his sash, grinning widely in the mirror as Lorenz presses his mouth in a thin line, eyeing the chest hair that proudly stands on his bare chest.

“I still don’t understand why you have to be shirtless,” the noble man complains. Claude chuckles, turning to his reluctant friend with a wide grin.

“Would you rather I be naked? Because this was the most clothes I can get away with for this ceremony,” Claude informs Lorenz. The other Alpha balks at the information, appalling his “noble sensibilities” once again. Claude turns back to the mirror, making sure everything is in order before he waits for his bride. Almyra doesn’t do weddings, that temporary idea isn’t enough for most couples. Instead, they preform a mating ceremony, binding two people willingly forever. The Fodlan wedding was just a formality for Claude. This. This is what he wanted permanently with Byleth.

“Claude! They won’t let me put a veil on Byleth,” Hilda whines, bursting into the room to drop dramatically on the feinting couch that his mother brought with her from Fodlan.

“Be careful with that couch, it’s an antique,” he parrots his mother from his childhood. Hilda blinks before shifting carefully to be “kinder” to the old piece.

“They kept saying something about bad omens and switching spirits when I tried to put a veil on her,” Hilda whines, resting her elbows on her knees. Claude sputters out a laugh, unsure how to explain the weird bullshit that was his great-grandfather’s mating ceremony, when his chosen decided they wanted nothing to do with the King and switched with their twin, who had adored the King since forever. Luckily for everyone involved, the twin who like the King had actually been the one the King had wanted in the first place, just getting mixed up with names (which were extremely similar) and mixed scents.

“Let’s just say history has an interesting way of making superstitions,” Claude waves off, gathering the bead necklaces of royalty carefully in his hands before resting it around his neck. Cracking his knuckles to release some nervous energy, he turns to the door and strides out, heading to the decorated field that sat near the Almyran capital. Tables and chairs have been set for the nobles coming to see this ceremony, allowing them the luxury of sitting. The common folk are made to stand amongst the flowers, more flowers in their grasp to throw to the couple upon the walk as newly mated. A priest of Almyra stands at the front, frowning as Lorenz and Hilda have to be reminded that only those to be mated are to stand before the priest.

“Are you sure you want to tie yourself to this… Fodlan wretch?” the priest sniffs. Claude turns to him with a smile that maybe just a little sharp for a mating ceremony.

“You mean the Queen of Fodlan? You mean the Omega who literally castrated a man for making a pass at one of her close friends? You mean the Goddess incarnate, who defeated a resurrected King of Liberation? That “wretch”?” he asks, pleased as the priest balks and shakes his head quickly.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” the priest sputters out. Claude nods once before turning his attention back to the other side of the aisle, his eyes widening at the sight of his wife and soon-to-mate. Byleth wears a simple off-the-shoulder white dress that floats around her beautifully, hiding just how perfectly she fits in his arms. Her eyes light up at the sight of him, a smile creeping shyly on her face along with a flush. Claude grins back at her, offering his hand to her. She accepts his hand, giving it a squeeze while she looks up at him almost shyly.

“All gathered here…” the priest begins, starting the spiel about binding the mind, body, and spirit of two together in mating. Claude tunes him mostly out (he needs to know when he can bite her and when they get to kiss) to look at Byleth, comparing this simplicity to the extravagance of their Fodlan wedding. Her bridal gown was gorgeous, clasping a choker around her throat before creating a window to her cleavage. From her bust down was a tight, embroidered cloth that emphasized her curves seductively. Her hair had been pinned up (which she complained about as they prepared to consummate their marriage that night), and had jewels draped over it. Here and now, she stands before him, simply dressed with only a single braid trailing down the side of her face.

“Alpha, you shall bite first,” the priest instructs. Claude obliges, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her mating gland before biting down. The soft gasp it draws from his wife is heady, almost as heady as the rush of Baklava filling his senses. He pulls back enough to lick up the blood before pulling back entirely. She blinks, trying to return to neutrality, before looking up at him with an absolutely smitten look.

“Now, Omega, you may bite your Alpha,” the priest barely says before she pulls him down, pressing her own kiss to his mating gland before biting. Claude bites back a keen, his pants suddenly extremely tight at the flood of feeling her so close to him, so in love with _him_. She pulls back to give the bite mark a few kitten licks before pulling back entirely, her lips now stained red in his blood (which should _not _be attractive but fuck him apparently).

“I now decree, with the blessings of the Gods, you are mates,” the priest cries, not even blinking when Claude dives down to smash his mouth against Byleth’s. The soft giggle from his mate matches the bubbling happiness that he feels through their bond. He can’t stop the grin from crossing his face in return, picking her up into a bridal carry to carry her over to Pearl. The Wyvern purrs happily, flapping her wings eagerly as the commoners and Golden Deer throw flower petals at the newly mated couple.

“I’m not letting you leave the bed all day,” Claude whispers in Byleth’s ear, a knot of pride curling in his chest at the flush that crosses her face. However, his wife, _his mate_, turns her head enough to press a kiss square on his mouth.

“How about you make it a week?” she asks, sweet and innocent in her tone. Claude chokes, burying his head into her shoulder as they settle onto Pearl’s saddle and take off.

* * *

Arriving on the balcony of the Almyran Castle, Claude slides off first before scooping his bride back up in his arms. Byleth sighs, accepting her fate within her Alpha’s arms. He’s practically beaming, laying his mate down on the bed before crawling over her.

“Well, well, well. It seems I have a queen in my bed,” Claude teases, caging her in with his hands. Byleth huffs, rolling her eyes. He knows he’s used that line almost every night since their marriage but, honestly? He’s lying. There is no queen, but a _Goddess_ who lays beneath him.

“And it appears a king doesn’t know what to do about that,” she retorts, a small smile curling her lips and her giddiness crashing over their bond. Claude chuckles, reluctant to admit that she’s right. Then again, outside her heat and his rut, he never seems to know what to do for her. Instincts are things he pushed down and away, trying to keep himself safe with a clear head. Whenever he’s free to do what he wants, Claude’s left with wanting to do everything at once. It’s a little overwhelming, but he can persevere. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her mating gland, nibbling and suckling around his mark. The wave of pleasure and joy that wasn’t his own was a new, welcomed change that Claude hopes to repeat over and over. He pulls back, unable to stop himself from just looking at her. A smile crosses her face, her hand reaching up to softly touch his cheek.

“Claude,” she coos, soft and sweet and everything Claude adores about her. He turns his face against her palm, pressing a kiss to the rough skin there.

“Nothing to worry about, dearheart,” he assures her, his hands running over her dress before pulling it up and over. He grins at her nudity underneath, pressing soft kisses and giving kind nips to her stomach. Byleth gives him soft sighs and sweet laughter for his work, only stopping to moan when he begins to feast at her cunt. He echoes the moan against her, licking into her opening eagerly while his thumb rubs little circles against her clit. His other hand trails up her thigh, giving any flesh within reach a soft squeeze as it travels up, meeting her hand and twining their fingers together. He feels the build up of pleasure through their bond, feels the rise of arousal from his beloved Teach. Claude pulls back, grinning at the moan of disappointment it pulls from his lovely mate.

“Don’t worry, love. Just getting ready myself,” he promises, undoing his sash and allowing his pants to drop, practically beaming when he sees her eyes widen at his lack of undergarments. Suddenly, her hands fly up to cover her face, which had burned a bright read, peeking shyly between her fingers. He feels how flustered she is through their bond, laughing as he returns to the bed.

“Why are you without garments?” she squeaks, shy despite how often they’ve done this (which is about once a week, but Claude hopes to make it every night from now on).

“Truthfully, the mating ceremony is preformed in the nude,” he begins to explain, pausing to press a kiss to her thigh. He travels up her body slowly, kissing and explaining the whole way.

“After the bites, the priest and audience can see how ‘compatible’ the pair truly is by how aroused the couple became,” he kisses above her mound, grinning at the hitch in her breath.

“Then, the couple consummate their mating while their guests eat, drink, and party to encourage the couple’s fertility and wish for blessings of healthy children,” he continues, pressing a kiss just above her belly button.

“After everything is done, the couple is visited by either close friends or family while still nude to assure them that their coupling was consensual,” he finishes, nipping at her nipple before raising his head to give her a large grin. Byleth gasps against the soft abuse, her face burning bright red at the idea of being seen in the nude by her ex-students.

“Don’t worry, Byleth. As king, I have the right to bend the rules a little. Obviously, clothes during the ceremony. Once the party’s over, we’ll probably be asleep, so we won’t have any visitors seeing us naked if they know what’s good for them,” he promises, kissing her neck.

“Th-they’re still going to ch-check on us?” she moans, arching into him. Claude chuckles, pulling back to give her an apologetic smile.

“Can’t change the tradition too much,” he explains. She bites her bottom lip, before nodding slowly, her legs wrapping around his hips to rub against his erection. Both of them moan at the feeling of pleasure running up their spines and through their bond. He reaches down with one hand to position himself while his other hand searches for hers. Byleth grasps his hand eagerly, lacing their fingers together as he presses in. He presses a kiss against her throat, distracting her slightly as he begins to pump in and out of her.

“Claude,” she keens out, pressing her body against his as much as she can, her nails digging into his shoulders. He presses his mouth against her gland, mouthing happily at the mating bite still standing starkly against her skin.

“So good for me, Byleth,” he coos against her skin, enjoying the way their skin tones contrast. Byleth tosses her head back, her eyes fluttering closed, as another, louder, moan escapes her lips. Claude grins, pressing more kisses to the column of her throat, picking up speed while his free hand holds her hip still, allowing him to pound into her. Byleth’s gasps and moans pick up in tempo, coming closer together and louder, as her cunt starts squeezing his cock, encouraging his release.

“You gonna cum, Byleth? Are you about to come, dearheart?” Claude pants. Instead of an answer, Byleth’s free hand tangles into his hair to pull him down for a demanding kiss. She moans into his mouth and trembles around him, her pussy tightening around him as slick rushes from her. Claude manages two more thrusts before he falls over the edge of ecstasy and releases inside her. He drops unceremoniously, face first into her breast. He gives a happy rumbling purr at his new pillows, rubbing his face between them.

“What is it with you and my boobs?” Byleth asks once her breath returns. Claude picks his head up and beams at her.

“What’s not to love about them? They’re just on the cusp of too big for your body, yet they fit you perfectly. And, they’re nice and sensitive,” he rambles, pressing a kiss to the underside of one. Byleth has a whole body shiver at the feeling of his lips on her breast, arousal curling within her once again. Without wasting another moment, she flips them over, leaving Claude on the bed while she towers over him.

“I think,” she starts, grinding against his cock, “that I should appreciate something of yours.”

* * *

Hilda doesn’t want to check on Claude and the professor, mostly because she knows that they’re having loads of sex. But, according to Lady von Riegan, it’s Almyran tradition to make sure everything is consensual. Hesitantly, she slowly opens the door to the newly mated pair’s room, cringing at the smell of sex, pastries, and pine. Peeking in, Hilda blinks before giggling in relief while cooing at the scene in front of her. Claude and Byleth, laying barely under the blankets, are asleep. Their bodies are twined together while their hands are clasped together between them. Carefully, Hilda creeps back and closes the door, humming happily to herself as she skips off to assure everyone that their mating was completely consensual.


	2. Faerghus Matrimony

Dimitri can’t stop his hands from shaking and sweating. He paces (either nervous or impatient he isn’t sure himself) within his dressing room, unable to calm himself enough to sit down. He hasn’t been able to see his Beloved since three days ago, when Mercedes and Annette practically kidnapped her to prepare for the wedding.

“Sit down, you idiot,” Felix huffs from where he’s sitting, leaning against Sylvain drowsily. The Alpha stares blearily up at the fretting king until the blond sighs and joins them on the overstuffed couch.

“I apologize. I find myself nervous and impatient for this ceremony to be over,” Dimitri explains. Felix snorts against Sylvain’s shoulder, closing his eyes and mumbling some unknown combination of words. Sylvain gives the king a relaxed grin, his arm casually draped over his Alpha’s shoulders.

“You’re gonna be fine, Dimitri. The professor will come down the aisle, you’ll cum in your pants from how beautiful she is, then you two’ll get hitched,” he jokes, chuckling as Dimitri chokes and Felix lets out a displeased grumble, burying his face into his Beta’s shoulder.

“Please don’t say that,” the king begs, ignoring Felix’s soft inquiry of, “Is he wrong, though?” Sylvain waves away Dimitri’s embarrassment, his smile shrinking to something real, soft and sacred, from a time long past.

“Listen, she’s gonna say yes. Hell, if you asked her while half-mad and in the middle of the war, she would have said yes. The profes- no, Byleth adores you. If you asked her to give you the moon, she’d bring you the stars too,” Sylvain tells him, like it’s a universal truth. Despite the voices in his head arguing against his friend, Dimitri can’t stop the absolute trust he feels and the truth in those words.

“Thank you, my friend,” Dimitri sighs, finally letting the tension escape him.

“Yer fuckin’ welc’m’,” Felix slurs, pressing his nose against the Beta’s throat. Dimitri blinks, arching a brow at Sylvain, who just laughs embarrassedly.

“So, I may have kept him up last night,” the red head admits sheepishly. The king blinks again, before a laugh escapes him. The door to the room opens, revealing Dedue standing before him, absolutely striking in his white tuxedo.

“Your Highness,” he calls, a small smile playing on his face, “they are ready for you to take your position.” Dimitri smiles back at his friend, nodding slightly as he stands.

“Thank you, Dedue. I shall be there shortly,” he promises, straightening his clothes. The man of Duscar nods before Ashe appears and drags his husband out to the main part of the cathedral, not without giving the trio in the room a small wave.

“Welp, let’s get this show on the road,” Sylvain huffs, standing and stretching. There is a rather solid thud that sounds behind him. When the two men look back, they see Felix, snoring lightly, headfirst in the seat his fiancé has just stood from.

“I should probably wake him up,” Sylvain admits, making Dimitri laugh again.

* * *

_Oh, flames of damnation, they were right_, Dimitri thinks as Byleth walks down the aisle, her arm linked to Alois’. The man looks seconds away from bawling, but it’s not enough to stop the tightening in Dimitri’s throat or trousers. She looks achingly beautiful, wearing white, silver, and blue. The base of her dress reminded him of a female warlock, the long-hooped sleeves the main reason, even though it’s a brilliant white with silver trim as opposed to her usual black. The train attached to her dress is the blue of royalty, also with silver trim. However, there is a window to the dress, revealing to Dimitri her cleavage with each step and breath she takes. When she finally stands before him, he’s able to tear his eyes from her cleavage to her face and feels the breath leave him again. She was already beautiful without anything on her, but now, with makeup enhancing her features, she truly looks like a goddess.

“Your Highness?” Seteth calls, startling Dimitri back to reality, where Cyril raises an eyebrow at him with the rings. Dimitri gives a nervous cough, taking the ring and stuttering through his vows, his face on fire. Although, when he glances up at his beloved’s face, the smile on her face is worth whatever embarrassment he is going through. Her vows come out smoothly, enhancing her beauty in his eye and making it very, _very_ hard to wait for Seteth to tell them to kiss.

“Now, with the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the br-” Seteth doesn’t even get the sentence out before Dimitri dives down to press his mouth against Byleth’s. He feels her laugh softly against his mouth, but he doesn’t care. _She’s finally his_. Dimitri pulls back, looking down at his beautiful beloved. She smiles up at him, ignoring the cheers and claps (and whistles coming from a certain red-haired Beta a little behind Dimitri). He offers her his arm, waiting for her to rest her hand on his elbow before leading her back down the aisle, to the reception.

* * *

After the reception and a few glasses of wine, Dimitri wobbles as he carries his bride to their marriage bed. He knows he’s somewhat of a lightweight, especially compared to his wife (and _Goddess above_, he can call Byleth his wife), who’s been drinking since she could work with her father as a fellow mercenary.

“Easy, love,” she coos as he struggles to kick the door closed behind him, swaying unsteadily from the alcohol affecting his balance. He huffs, not drunk enough to be completely useless, but enough to be unsteady. Walking, slowly, to their marriage bed, he trips over something and falls face first into his wife’s breast, getting a small squeal of surprise. Pushing himself up, Dimitri has apologizes and questions to check on Byleth when he finally opens his eye. The words leave him gaping at how beautifully disheveled she looks beneath him. Her pale green hair has fallen from the intricate braiding someone did, the sapphire-tipped pins that were holding it together now making constellations in her hair. Her white and silver dress give her the look of the Goddess, emphasizing everything Dimitri adores about her physically. However, his favorite thing about how she lays beneath him is her smile, small and soft and _achingly real_.

“Dimitri,” she sighs, reaching her hand up to cup his face. He leans into her warm hand, turning his head slightly to press a kiss against her palm before traveling down to her wrist, her forearm, her shoulder, her neck.

“Beloved,” he finally answers, nipping at her throat while unzipping her dress. He doesn’t even recall moving his hands to undress her, but he doesn’t care when her creamy skin is revealed to him. Without a moments hesitation, he starts mouthing at the expanse of skin being revealed to him as he removes her dress. The moan that escapes his wife arouses him further, coaxing the Alpha out easily.

“Mate?” he asks, looking up at her for permission, for approval. She purrs at his question, pulling him down for a kiss. The Alpha practically melts on top of her, trying to smother her in his scent. She giggles under his administration, wiggling the rest of the way out of her dress.

“Get undressed, Dima,” she tells him, tugging at his royal wear. The Alpha pulls back and starts to undress, purring at the feeling of his love’s hands helping him pull it off. It takes far too long for him to be free of his clothing, but once he is, he immediately climbs onto the bed and buries his head into her neck.

“So pretty,” he coos, kissing and licking everywhere he can as he moves down her body, stopping at the apex of her thighs. Pressing soft kisses to her thighs, the Alpha makes eye contact with his Omega before feasting on her cunt. The keen he pulls from her is as sweet as the cake he could slightly taste during the reception. He laps at the whole opening before focusing on her clit, sucking and licking the sensitive nub enthusiastically.

“Oh, Goddess. Don’t stop, please please _please_ don’t stop,” Byleth begs, bucking against his mouth. He growls, pulling back to crawl up her body, pressing his cock against her wet cunt.

“Mate,” he growls, biting down on her mating gland as he thrusts in. Byleth gasps and bites down on his mating gland to silence the moan that threatened to escape her. The feeling of a completed bond pushes him over the edge, causing him to jerk back and howl, his knot inflating inside his mate. Byleth screams out her pleasure, clenching down on his knot and clenches her legs around his hips. They gasp for air, only for Dimitri to knock the wind out of Byleth when he falls back onto her breasts. She giggles softly, petting his hair as he feels a wash of affection that is not his own bleed through their bond.

“Beloved,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, her neck, her cheek, before finally capturing her lips. She hums in reply, pressing back eagerly while looping her arms around his neck.

“Dima, love you,” she coos. Dimitri smiles, feeling his knot deflate enough to pull out. However, he decides to start making love to his new bride instead, pressing more kisses to her skin as she moans softly.

* * *

Dedue walks to the room the newly wedded pair slept in this past night, a tray of breakfast in his hands. He pauses at the sound of moans and soft laughter, feeling a flush start to cross his face. Clearing his throat, Dedue knocks on the door. The sound in the room stops, before he hears the heavy footsteps of His Highness and the door opens quickly. Before him, His Highness stands with a blanket wrapped awkwardly around his waist, with bitemarks and bruises littering his body in ways reminiscent to when he helped the Professor through her heat, a bright flush on his face while his hair is in a disarray.

“Ah, Dedue. Thank you,” His Highness thanks him awkwardly, taking the tray with one hand while his other clings to the blanket around his waist. Dedue gives his lord a small smile and a nod, waiting for the Alpha to close the door again before turning and leaving quickly. There are many things Dedue will stand guard through, but listening to His Highness having sex with the Professor is most definitely not one of them.


	3. Adrestian Eloping

If there is one thing Edelgard regrets about overthrowing the Church, it’s that marrying her darling Byleth is now one hundred times harder. There are forms to fill out in front of witnesses, there are vows that need to be organized in front of a sanctioned priest, she needs to prepare some form of celebration as Emperor to allow the people to know that there will be a coupling, and more to rebuild from the war. She is only a woman, and Hubert can only help so much.

“That’s it,” she finally huffs, slamming her hands down on the table. Hubert, Ferdinand, and Byleth all look up from the forms at the sound.

“We’re eloping,” Edelgard declares, her head held high and ready to argue. However, what she gets is three different sighs of relief.

“Right then,” Hubert huffs, picking up a form and lighting it on fire. Ferdinand reaches over to light another form using Hubert’s fire, while Byleth gives Edelgard a small smile. Once a few more forms are set to the fire in Hubert’s hand, he clenches his fist to put out the flames and stands.

“I shall get the proper forms and bring Lindhart in,” he tells them with a bow, before dramatically sweeping from the room. Ferdinand grins, watching the door close behind his lover.

“Do you think he does it on purpose, or is it just ingrained within him to be so dramatic in his departures?” he asks idly. Edelgard covers her mouth as she laughs while Byleth lets out a soft chuckle of her own.

“I believe he’s done it for so long that he doesn’t even realizes what he’s doing,” Edelgard offers. Ferdinand grins at that, looking so obviously smitten that Edelgard feels a little jealous, before she shares a fond look with her dearest. Byleth is obviously amused with the strange relationship between her Alpha’s left and right hands, but her eyes are so soft and her mouth curves up just so, telling Edelgard that she’s thinking about _her_.

“I have returned,” Hubert announces, dragging a grumbling Lindhart behind him. The Bishop yawns and blinks drowsily as Hubert hands Edelgard the proper marriage form.

“Sign here and here for all to see,” he points out. Edelgard signs both lines before sliding the paper to Byleth. The teal haired woman signs on the lines before handing it to Lindhart. The man looks it over, gives a single nod and yawns.

“Congratulations, you’re married,” he sighs, plodding out of the room to return to wherever he was napping. Ferdinand snorts and stands, stretching his arms up.

“Well, let’s give the Emperor and her new wife the rest of the day to get “acquainted” as we relax,” the Alpha tells his lover. Hubert gives him a smirk that promises many things Edelgard doesn’t want to recall walking in on, before grabbing Ferdinand by the wrist and dragging him away. The door closes behind the pair, leaving the two women to sit silently in the room.

“I think they just wanted an excuse to have sex,” Byleth states, her voice completely monotone. Edelgard bursts into laughter, unable to suppress it any longer.

“Dearest, you took the words from my mouth,” she admits between giggles. The soft smile she gets in return is enough for warmth to spread through out her. Rising from her lavish seat, Edelgard offers her hand to her darling wife, her own smile bright on her face.

“Shall we do as instructed?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. Byleth takes her wife’s hand, allowing herself to be pulled from her own seat.

* * *

They fall into bed, giggling and breathless from running through the palace and hiding to exchange kisses. Byleth’s hands start working on Edelgard’s royal wear, pushing the red fabric off her body as quickly as possible. White hair spills out of the carefully pinned buns that the Emperor usually wears, contrasting with the dark armor that Byleth still wears.

“You need to undress, Darling,” Edelgard coos, her hands finding the buttons and zips that keep the wonderfully sensitive flesh of her Omega hidden. Byleth arches up, into her hands, as everything she wears comes undone, laying limply on the mattress only to be brushed aside and cast to the floor. Once they are both devoid of clothes, they take the time to just explore. Even during Byleth’s heat, they didn’t take the time to find what the other enjoys, only focused on filling Byleth with Edelgard’s seed. Now, the need to breed isn’t so important, allowing them the pleasure of the gentlest touch.

“Dearest,” Edelgard sighs, kissing her way down to Byleth’s cunt. The Omega whines, making a grabbing motion to her.

“El,” she whines. Edelgard lifts her head, cocking an eyebrow at her darling Omega. Byleth motions for her to turn around, which the Alpha does with little difficulty, putting her own pussy in front of her Dearest’s face. Suddenly, Edelgard feels a tongue lick hesitantly at the head of her sheathed cock, jolting in surprised pleasure. Looking over her shoulder, she blinks owlishly at her Omega, who gives her a shy smile in return before craning her neck to lick a stripe up her cunt. Moaning, Edelgard leans down to eat out her lovely Omega, trembling in pleasure at the feeling of being eaten out herself. It’s obvious that Byleth has no experience in oral pleasuring, but her enthusiasm certainly makes up for it, with sloppy licks along her labia and focused flicks at her cock head, which is slowly unsheathing under the ministrations.

“Darling, stop,” Edelgard finally commands, pulling away from her Omega’s cunt reluctantly. Byleth seems equally reluctant, giving a soft kiss to the tip of her cock before dropping her head back. Turning back around, Edelgard drops her weight down on top of Byleth, pressing their lips together. Byleth moans happily, wrapping her arms around Edelgard’s neck while the Alpha carefully coaxes her own cock out of its sheath.

“El, please,” Byleth begs, reaching down to spread her cunt open for her Alpha’s cock. Edelgard gives her a rumbling purr in appreciation, shifting to settle between her Darling’s legs. Softly, she runs her hands over her Omega’s legs, squeezing her thighs, marveling at the softness despite her Darling’s scars. Lifting one leg up to her shoulder, Edlegard presses soft kisses and nips to her wife’s skin as she slowly presses into her Darling’s cunt.

“So good, Darling,” she coos, rolling her hips to pull a moan from her Omega, “Absolutely wonderful, dearest.”

“El!” Byleth cries, clutching her lover closer, whining when she can’t get a kiss from Edelgard. The Emperor chuckles, obliging her Omega with a kiss as she starts to increase her pace, properly fucking her precious wife.

“So perfect, Byleth. You feel wonderful,” she praises, groaning as her Omega arches and cums around her cock. It feels instantaneous that her knot inflates and she releases inside Byleth, even as Edelgard knows she’s been fucking her Omega through her oversensitivity, but with how her Omega’s lower abdomen fills out with seed, she’s inclined not to care. They pant, Edelgard laying her head on Byleth’s breast while Byleth lays back on the pillows.

“… Do you want to do that again?” Edelgard asks, rolling her hips again.

* * *

Hubert stops in the hallway leading to the Emperor’s room, his nose crinkling in disgust. Ferdinand runs into his back, sputtering before trying to peek around his lover.

“Hubert? What is it?” the shorter Alpha asks. Hubert presses his lips together, taking a step back to prevent Ferdinand from smelling the stench of sex and mixing of baked goods and lavender.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, my sun,” he assures his lover, getting a flush to appear on the red-haired man’s face. Ferdinand sputters and flees with some half-assed excuse. Hubert sighs in relief, before sparing the bedroom door a glance. He decides to warn the kitchen staff that her Highness would take her breakfast in her room with the Tactician of the Army.


	4. Fodlan's Locket

It had taken a year to win her hand completely, but Cyril can now look forward to marrying Byleth. He shifts excitedly as Seteth stands with him at the altar, waiting for Byleth to join him. The ex-students and close friends are the only ones who make up the guests, Dorothea singing along with the piano when Byleth walks down the aisle on Alois’ arm. Cyril swallows nervously, his eyes wide at how elegant she looks in her wedding gown. He doesn’t know much about ladies’ clothes, but the dress is so similar to what he’s seen the Goddess wear in old paintings that he can’t help but feel more enchanted than if it was just Byleth.

“We are gathered here today…” Seteth starts to call out, rambling on about love and the mushy stuff Cyril feels when he sees his Omega. She looks up at him with a small smile and, oh, his heart is about to burst with how happy he is.

“Cyril? Your vows,” Seteth coaxes, ignoring the chuckles from Ashe and Ignatz behind the young Alpha. Cyril turns his head to stick his tongue out at his friends before turning back to Byleth. Taking a deep breath, he stumbles through his vows, furrowing his brow when he has trouble with a word, but he manages to tell her. Tell her how beautiful she is to him, how important, how wonderful, and how thankful he is that she chose him. Byleth’s small smile grows into a beautiful smile on her face, her eyes soft and shining happily. Then, it’s her turn with the vows. Cyril flushes as she tells him how she admired his straightforward nature, his dedication to working hard, his quiet understanding on the simpler things she had trouble with. How she loved him. Cyril is so flustered that he fumbles with the ring, barely sliding it on her finger without dropping the band. Byleth gently takes his hand, softly sliding her ring onto his finger in return, going so far as to lift his hand to press a kiss on his hand.

“Get it, Teach!!” Claude calls from where he is in the back, careful of the scars that litter his body and face from some battle Cyril didn’t witness. His face burns when Byleth turns her head from looking lovingly at Cyril to give the King of Almyra a deadpan look.

“Detention,” both Seteth and Byleth say at the same time, getting laughs from the collected guests. Claude gives them a thumbs up before sitting back in his seat, letting Cyril calm down and continue to marry his love.

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Seteth declares. Cyril leans down, only to almost headbutt Byleth in his eagerness. She laughs softly, raising her hands to the sides of his face before leaning up to kiss him. Ignoring the whoops and cheers of the ex-students, Cyril wraps his arms around his wife to pull her closer to him.

* * *

“So, you gonna mate with her or just stick with marriage,” Claude asks during a moment Byleth is dragged onto the dance floor by Annette and Dorothea. Cyril chokes on the water he was sipping on, coughing as his face burns in embarrassment. The King of Almyra laughs, still careful of the scars streaking his face from some battle (Cyril would guess it’s from Gronder field, but he’s not sure) that makes Claude look more Almyran.

“I-I wanna wait before we make that decision,” Cyril manages to sputter out quickly. Claude hums, nodding thoughtfully as he watches the Queen of United Fodlan laugh with the songstress and young professor as they dance in a circle.

“You might want to do it soon. Teach said she’d need to speak with Almyran nobles soon to help me open the borders. You know how Almyra views marriage versus mating,” Claude warns Cyril. He frowns, because it’s true. If an Almyran noble thought that he could sweep Byleth away from Cyril, the noble would do everything in their power to do so, then mate her as soon as possible to keep her power as their own. And while Omegas are treated better in Almyra, they’re still seen as lesser due to the lack of training they’re usually given, which would upset Byleth quickly.

“I’ll bring it up to her,” Cyril agrees, pushing that worry from his mind to smile when Hilda skips over to pull Byleth into a faux waltz, to the delight of Annette and Dorothea.

* * *

“Mating?” Byleth asks, three days into their honeymoon. Cyril flushes, nodding slowly. She sits naked on the bed, her hair draping across her shoulders prettily, a near constant reminder that she’s too beautiful for him.

“Yeah, cause Almyrans don’t think to much about marriage. It’s temporary, you can break it and all that,” Cyril explains, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair. Byleth hums, leaning into the caress as she appears to think it over. While his wife is thinking, Cyril starts to split her hair into chunks to start braiding it, keeping quiet and busy.

“Okay. Do you want to do it now?” she asks suddenly. He lets her hair slip through his fingers, blinking at her owlishly. She smile, chuckling at his expression before she rests her hand on the side of his face.

“Cyril, we don’t have to do it. We can simply stay married for a while, if that makes you comfortable. I don’t care about any Almyran noble or Alpha. I love you,” she assures him. Cyril feels his face burn, his heart so full that it feels like it’ll thump out of his chest.

“I love you too. I just want ya’ to be safe,” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers. She smiles at him, tilting her head to press a kiss to his mouth. He returns her affection, softly at first, but growing in hunger as the kiss goes on. They part to catch a breath before meeting again, a softness hiding the burning need they feel for each other. Byleth rolls on top of him, her hips pinning his down as they continue to kiss.

“We’ll think about it later. Right now, I want you in me,” she tells him, rolling down against his cock. Cyril whines, bucking up against the wet heat that is her cunt. The happy purr that rumbles out of her just turns him on more, coaxing another buck of his hips against her.

“Byleth,” he moans, his hands finding her thighs and giving them a squeeze. She moans in reply, rising just long enough to line up his cock before taking it in her with a smooth motion. Immediately, Cyril cries out, bucking up into her eagerly, causing Byleth to fight to stay on top, arching in pleasure as his inflating knot pulls her entrance open repeatedly as it moves in and out rapidly.

“Cyril, Alpha. Oh Goddess,” she gasps, clenching around him as she tries to ride out his upward thrusts. His hands reach up to grope her bouncing breasts, kneading and pinching the flesh. She gasps, grinding down on his knot in response, which just causes him to buck up again. That buck was enough for his knot to pop into her and stay, getting a beautiful moan from her.

“So good,” she purrs, rolling her hips to let his knot press all around her cunt. Cyril growls, his hands finding her hips to hold her still, trying to stave off his orgasm. However, Byleth seems to have a different idea, leaning down to bite on his shoulder, just shy of his mating gland while being close enough to cause him to press up as far as he can and release deep inside her. Byleth moans at the feeling of his cum flood her womb, orgasming around his knot before collapsing on top of him. They lay together, panting for breath, when Cyril arches his head to bite on her outer shoulder. She squeaks at the feeling, lifting her head to look at him with betrayal.

“Shouldn’t’ve bit me,” he slurs drowsily, settling down on the bed for a quick nap.

* * *

Seteth presses his lips together, unsure if it’s to hold back a laugh or a series of pointed questions toward the nobles gathered around the Queen like bees to a flower. Byleth stands before the Almyran nobles, wearing an off the shoulder dress to show off her mating gland, and the bite Cyril left on her. Claude looks delightfully amused while the other nobles appear dejected and angry at the mark.

“And your mate? What do they think of this?” one of the ruder ones cuts into Byleth’s explanations of how to handle trade going over the border. The queen blinks, raising an eyebrow, while Seteth bristles at the obvious disregard of her competence. Suddenly, the door to the meeting chamber opens, Cyril strolling in shirtless, practically showing off his mark. Ignoring the nobles, he swoops down to press a kiss to Byleth’s cheek.

“All th’ wyverns and pegasuses are safely in th’ stables, Ya Amar,” he tells her, his voice full of affection and absolute devotion, reminding Seteth of the tone he and his wife would have with each other.

“Thank you, Ya Hayati,” she replies smoothly, pressing a kiss on Cyril’s cheek in return. The young Alpha beams, practically drapes himself on his wife. Byleth turns back to the noble, her face mostly blank save the small smile that she seems incapable of losing when Cyril is nearby.

“I believe that he supports me in this decision,” she tells them with a monotone voice, causing both Claude and Seteth to cackle at the sputtering and cursing from the Almyran nobles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY FINISHED!!! I'm so sorry that it took so long to get four chapters up, but I participated in Kinktober and focused on that for the whole month of October. So sorry about that. Also, I realized after posting that Edelgard didn't mate with Byleth in her chapter, but I'll just say that they did during the night. I'm so sorry about that.
> 
> Anyway, did you guys enjoy this piece? Well, I've already got three more FE3H pieces in the works, with one being a part of this series. Please continue to have patience while I get them all written up. Thank you all!


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